


Paradigm Shift

by End_Transmission



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Mini crewmates are children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26930080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/End_Transmission/pseuds/End_Transmission
Summary: Their mission is complete - all that's left to do is destroy what remains of the human's data, and then wait for the Skeld to collapse upon itself. It's easy. It should be easy.Why hadn't anyone told him there were human children on board?
Relationships: Black & Cyan (Among Us), Black & Mini Crewmates
Comments: 22
Kudos: 179





	Paradigm Shift

**Author's Note:**

> This is distantly related to Other Half, in that it uses the same characters and certain aspects of personality and relationships are the same. But this is more of an alternate universe type story to that one. Just a little oneshot for funsies. No worries, the next chapter of Other Half is well in progress!

Even among the blaring alarms, there was a near stifling silence aboard the Skeld. As Skitch - once known as Black to his human crewmates - walked the hall, he felt the weight of that silence digging into him like claws. The ghosts of the victims - both his own and his partners' - were pulling at him, prodding him, digging deep into his chest and yanking at all four of his hearts. 

It had been necessary. It had been cruel. It had been…awful. These things and others existed all at once, creating a lead ball of guilt and relief deep in Skitch's gut. As Skitch came to a stop outside of a door, he looked down at his claw. It'd burst the confines of his glove, had become an elongated, grotesque weapon. White's gore still stained it. Skitch could still taste Yellow's blood in his mouth. With a grimace, he let his hand shift back into something more human, and then pressed it against the door's temperature lock. With a hiss, the door unlocked and slid open. 

Skitch took one step inside, and immediately came to a halt. 

His partner, an Impostor named Trep, had sent Skitch to this room to investigate. Although they were both positive every crewmate was accounted for - _White and Yellow and Brown, all his kills to claim_ \- they needed to be sure nothing was left to chance. Remaining data had to be destroyed, on the off chance any parts of the Skeld made it back to Earth. That was all Skitch had expected to find in the little locked room, really. More computers, more data, or maybe nothing but personal artifacts of the crewmates. 

He did not expect to find children. 

There were three of them, all huddled together in a corner, holding on to each other in terror. They were immediately identifiable, dressed in the same color suits as their parents. White. Red. 

Orange. 

Orange had mentioned having a child once, but Skitch had assumed the boy to be on Earth. How children had come to be on the ship - _why_ anyone would bring their offspring on such a mission, Skitch couldn't even begin to guess. But the how's and why's didn't matter - the children were there, and something was caught in Skitch's throat. Little White let out a sob, and all at once Skitch knew the mission was lost. 

"Why would anyone take their offspring away from their home planet?" Skitch whipped around at the sudden voice, his hearts beginning to gallop when he saw Trep. 

The cyan-suited Impostor was staring past Skitch, right at the group of tiny humans. Skitch heard one of them scream in terror, and he could understand why. The gaping maw at Trep's abdomen was half-open and its razor tongue was flicking about, as if tasting the air. Trep was also drenched in blood and other gore - he, after all, could claim a majority of the kills. Unlike Skitch, who had tried to make them quick and clean, Trep had reveled in his attacks. 

It showed. 

It was terrifying the children. 

"I don't know, but you're scaring them," Skitch signed in response, stepping to the side to place himself more firmly between Trep and the children. "Leave, let me deal with this."

" _Deal_ with it?" Trep snapped, looking to Skitch, "there's only one way to deal with it, and it'll be quicker if we work together. You pick one, and I'll take the other two -" 

"We're not killing them - they're children!" 

" _Human_ children," Trep snarled, "on an actively failing ship, I may remind you. If you're that bothered, we can even make it quick. I'd think you'd rather that over a slow death with no Oxygen, or from radiation sickness. Both of which are assured, given the current state of the vessel."

“We can send them on the dropship -”

“Then everything we’ve done is for naught!” Trep interrupted, “I know how the blood on your hands bothers you, _Skitch._ Will you really throw it away now? Just to save three measly humans? What about _our_ home? What about _our_ families? The children of our people?”

“What could children possibly tell them?” 

“Enough for them to go hunting! They’ll be back with more ships, more humans - it won’t be resource hunting then, it’ll be war!” 

“I’m not killing them,” Skitch said, a snarl bubbling in the back of his throat, “I won’t let you do it, either.” 

Trep didn’t respond, that time. Instead, he went still. The two Impostors stared at each other for a long minute, the tension so thick Skitch could almost feel it pressing against his skin. Then, Trep attacked - he lunged at Skitch, his tongue lashing out. Not entirely surprised, Skitch twisted, felt it as the razor edge of Trep’s tongue ripped at the suit of his side. With a deep growl of his own, Skitch threw himself at Trep in retaliation. 

Although it was quick, in the moment it felt like it lasted forever. The visor of Skitch’s helmet shattered, and he used the opening to lunge out with his own sharp teeth and razor-tipped tongue. They fell to the ground, rolled over and over again as they fought for purchase, cutting each other with every movement. Skitch ripped with his claws and felt claws ripping at him in return. When one pierced deep into his abdomen, Skitch saw red. Moving with sheer instinct, Skitch felt his form meld and change, allowing him to lunge _out_ of the hole of his helmet. He bit down, felt suit and flesh give way beneath his teeth and bit even harder. Blood - thinner, cooler than human blood - gushed into his mouth, and still he kept biting. Kept biting until it felt right to _tear._ Trep’s struggles went from near overpowering to absent - and only when he stopped moving entirely did Skitch open his jaws and let go of the body. As Trep clacked against the ground, Skitch crawled entirely out of his suit. Claws tapped against the ground - paws slapped behind them. Every movement made his ever-shifting body change into something slightly different. He paused, breathed, felt the adrenaline of the battle coursing through every nerve of his body. 

It was looking at the children that snapped him out of it. He hadn’t realized there was anywhere to go once someone hit terrified, but the children had managed it. Their breathing was shallow, labored - Skitch all at once had the horrifying thought that they could actually _die_ from fright. Quickly, he allowed himself to shift, returning to the human form he’d grown so accustomed to over the past month. He was still trembling, but in that form he felt more himself. Less feral. He wouldn’t hurt the children - but it would be difficult to convince them of that when he was wearing the form of a monster. 

“It’s okay,” Skitch said, and then he waited. He hadn’t considered that the children might not know sign-language - that they may not be able to understand him. His mind wheeled, trying to think of the best way to show them he meant them no harm, the best way to get them to follow him, so he could safely get them to the dropship. 

Then, Little Orange uncurled himself from the group - just a bit. 

“They say it’s okay,” Little Orange said, “um, mister um, missus -”

“My name is Skitch.”

“S-Skitch,” Little Orange agreed, “where are our parents? Where’s my dad?” 

_Orange had looked so betrayed when Skitch had stood by and let him die. Even if his death hadn’t been at Skitch’s own hands, it’d hurt the most._

“They’re gone,” Skitch answered and then, with a pause and a grimace, “they didn’t leave - they’re dead. I’m sorry.” Little Orange stared at him, the intensity of his gaze hauntingly familiar, and then all at once burst into sobs. Skitch moved towards him on instinct, stopping dead when the other two gave alarmed screeches. 

“Daddy!” Little Orange wailed, and despite the childrens’ horror, Skitch couldn’t just leave him like that. So he moved again, hit his knees to be at the child’s level, and then wrapped Little Orange in a tight hug.

 _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,_ Skitch repeated the mantra in his head, rubbing his hand against Little Orange’s back in his best attempt to convey the sign to the child. So caught up in his grief, Little Orange didn’t even seem to notice that one of the monsters had him in a hold - at least, not until he seemed to give in. Skitch felt the child burrow against his chest, felt his arms wrap around Skitch’s neck. He continued to sob, even as Skitch stood, shifting his arms to keep the child secure. 

The alarms were still blaring. Trep had that right, after all - the ship was in disrepair. Would fail entirely before long. Time wasn’t on their side - Skitch had to get the children on the dropship. He gestured at the other two, waited, and gestured again when they simply curled in tighter with each other. Frustrated, but trying not to show it, Skitch sat Little Orange back on his feet, and tapped at his shoulder until the child - eyes puffy and red - finally looked at him. 

“We have to go,” Skitch said, “it’s dangerous, I have to make sure you guys get back to Earth. Can you help me convince your friends?” Little Orange sniffed, then turned to look at the other children.

“We have to go,” he repeated, “Skitch is gonna - he’s gonna help us go home.”

“He’s gonna eat us!” Little White protested.

“He won’t - you won’t, right?” Little Orange asked, looking to Skitch once more.

“I won’t. I promise I won’t. I won’t hurt any of you - I only want to help. It’s going to get hard to breathe soon.” 

It took time - more time than Skitch wanted to use - but eventually, finally, the children agreed to follow him. They made a small line - Little Orange clinging to Skitch’s leg as they walked, and the other two clasping hands to follow. It was difficult to bypass the bodies on the way to the dropship - using up yet more precious time in order to prevent the children from seeing what had become of their parents.

When Little Red began to cough violently, Skitch knew they couldn’t waste any more time. Ignoring their cries of alarm and their fighting, Skitch snatched up all three children and began to run. 

He didn’t miss the way they stopped fighting. How they clung to him, even hugged him tight. Skitch couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been, if he’d known about the children earlier. Would he have ever been able to kill a human in cold blood then?

At the dropship, Skitch wasted no time getting the children into their seats and buckled in, pushing through the guilt when they clung to him desperately. He couldn’t command, only had to force them into place, to keep them still until he could trap them with their seat belts. Once they were secure, Skitch went to the control panel, set the autopilot, and then, finally, returned to Little Orange. With a breath, he crouched in front of the child.

“This ship has autopilot,” he said, signing slowly to be sure the boy understood, “it will take you home, all you have to do is sit tight. Do not touch any buttons, okay? Don’t do anything. Just wait, and it will take you home.”

“Aren’t you coming too?” Little Orange asked, the sniffle in his voice a vice grip around all of Skitch’s hearts.

“I can’t. I have to send the ship, so you guys don’t have to worry about it,” Skitch said. There were a hundred different reasons he couldn’t go, but that was the easiest to say. 

“I’m scared,” Little Orange said, voice breaking. 

“I know,” Skitch answered, “but I promise it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. Let the ship take you home, and you take care of each other. Can you do that for me? Can you watch out for each other?” 

After a second or two of uncertainty, Little Orange nodded. Skitch reached out and put his hands on the child’s shoulders and squeezed. Then, abruptly, he let go, turned, and left the dropship, triggering the door to shut behind him. His breath quickening, Skitch couldn’t bring himself to look through the glass. Instead, he focused his attention on the controls, triggering the ship to release from the Skeld and begin its automatic descent back to Earth. Only then, once it had separated and its thrusters had kicked in, did Skitch look to it. 

_Goodbye, little humans,_ Skitch thought, putting a hand on the glass, _Goodbye, and good luck._

The alarms were blaring a different tune, now, one more erratic. More distressed. The reactor was failing - the ship would likely explode soon. The children would be far enough away, though. They were safe. They were going home. 

At least someone was going home. 

Skitch thought of home as he turned away and walked the halls of the Skeld once more. He didn’t think of their mission, or if he’d just doomed his own planet, or anything like that. Instead, he thought of his mother. He thought of her hugs, and her singing, and even her scolding. He thought of his sister. Of long mornings playing various games in the swampland near their home. Of arguments that now seemed so petty. So senseless. 

Skitch found Orange’s body, still lying where it’d been slain. Where Orange had been clicking through the security cameras desperately, trying to find an answer. Skitch stopped next to Orange, and then, he thought of Orange. The human’s kindness, the way he’d attempted to share his vegetables with Skitch when he thought the Impostor wasn’t getting enough. Orange’s stories of home. 

The betrayal in his eyes as Trep stabbed him through with his tongue. 

With a shudder, Skitch’s form began to melt, returning to its base state of a plasmatic, partially amorphous body. It was perfect for curling up against Orange’s side, melding exactly against every curve of his corpse. Orange had been so warm, when he was alive, and the cold now was stark. Almost painful.

Still, it was some small comfort. As something finally gave in a faraway room on the ship, and the noise of collapse and destruction rushed towards Skitch, he thought about how nice it was, to not be entirely alone in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> BTW, I have a Tumblr where I always post links to my works. My interests are liable to change on a dime, but my primary interest if FNAF and, currently, Among us. If you're curious, come check it out!
> 
> http://pyroweasel.tumblr.com


End file.
